


On the Go

by phdmama



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bad Jokes, M/M, Manscaping, it's Lauren's fault, meet cute, more like meet embarrassing really, that's all it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 08:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11642988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phdmama/pseuds/phdmama
Summary: Fromthis postbecause I could not resist.





	On the Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FullOnLarrie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullOnLarrie/gifts).



> This is for the lovely and hysterical [Lauren](http://fullonlarrie.tumblr.com/). I don't know what happened. I've got eleventy billion other things to write, but this happened. I hope it makes you laugh, darling, because it made me laugh a lot.
> 
> This is a work of fiction, meant only to entertain. Please don’t break the 4th wall or post anywhere else! 
> 
> As always, the words, as well as the errors, are mine.

As Harry heads back into his neighborhood on the last leg of his evening run, he sees a shining, white panel truck parked in front of the neighbors. He stares at it as he passes. In large, green letters arced across the side of the truck are the words, “MANSCAPING.” Underneath there’s a cartoon drawing of a messy looking shrubbery with a shirtless guy behind it, wielding large hedge clippers and a manic grin, and below that, it says “Whatever shape your topiary, we trim them all!” This is followed by the phone number.

Huh. Harry frowns. He really wouldn’t have pegged Jack and Kevin as the type to engage in a bit of manscaping. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, of course, but they’re more the typical lumberjack sexuals, all big beards and chest hair framed by their unbuttoned flannels. He can only imagine the au naturale state of their...manscapes. Not that he’s thought it about. You know, now and again. Just occasionally.

Anyway, _Harry,_ on the other hand, is just back on the dating scene after his relationship with Dylan had fizzled out a few months ago, and perhaps a little manscaping is in order before he tries to get back on that horse, so to speak. He pauses, pulls out his phone and snaps a quick picture, making a mental note to call the company tomorrow. He loves the idea of a mobile service, the thought of being groomed in the privacy of his own home suits him well. He has a mini-panic for a moment, wondering how much they charge, and how much do you even tip a mobile manscaper? He makes a mental note to google this too, and heads up his steps onto the porch. As he unlocks the front door, he notes that Jack and Kevin have finally had their hedges trimmed back. About fucking time, he thinks fondly, shaking his head as he shuts the door behind himself. Those things were awfully overgrown.

The next day, Harry is swamped at work. He is one of three veterinarians who have their own practice, and while he loves it, honestly can’t imagine doing anything else, there’s always the unexpected surprises that tend to throw off his schedule. He handles the small animals, cats and dogs mostly, while Niall takes the exotics, and Liam is usually out on-call for the large farm animals, to the west of them. They’ve found their niche here, in this suburb of San Francisco, and Harry loves it. It’s close enough that he can go out in the city regularly, but a small-enough town that he can afford his own home, and their clientele pull from all the surrounding towns.

It’s not until late afternoon that he remembers the mobile groomer, and snickers a bit at the idea. They’ve toyed with adding a groomer to their own staff, and from his preliminary research, mobile is _definitely_ the way to go, so he has to applaud this person’s business acumen. He’s got ten minutes before his next patient, so he hastily pulls out his phone and calls up the picture, squinting a bit to get it into focus. He grabs his desk phone, jerks it closer, and quickly dials the number, fully expecting to leave a message, and is shocked when a lovely, reedy tenor answers the phone with a cheerful:

“Manscaping, you bloom ‘em, we groom ‘em. How can I help you?”

“Oh, uh,” Harry stutters, caught completely off-guard. “Oh shit, sorry, I was expecting a voicemail.”

“Well, you caught me between clients, man. How can I help? Got some hedges running wild?”

_Oh my._ Harry hadn’t expected that the groomer would be quite so...straight forward, but he supposes that when you’re in the business, you become very comfortable with tackling things head on, as it were.

“Uh yeah, very unruly,” he says ruefully, picturing the disaster scene he’d scrubbed down that morning.

“Is this an emergency?” The voice asks, “Like, the in-laws coming tomorrow sort of thing?”

Harry frowns. “Oh no, nothing like that,” he says finally, wondering what sort of marital relationship this gentleman has. “I’m just, you know, getting back out on the scene, want everything to be nice and neat.”

“Of course,” the voice says approvingly, “Don’t we all.”

“I’ve, err, never done this before,” Harry admits, somehow comfortable sharing this with this stranger. He’s like a doctor, Harry reminds himself. This guy has probably seen hundreds of...worksites. He’s a professional. He’s not here to judge, he’s just here to help.

“Oh, well, there’s nothing to it,” the voice says confidently. “I can come by, we can have a quick consultation as to what you’re looking for, that sort of thing, and I can usually get the job done the same day. I mean, depending on how overgrown the site is, you know, how thick the growth is, and if you’ve any special instructions.”

Special instructions? There are special instructions? Harry panics a bit.

“Um, what sort of special instructions?”

“You know,” the voice says, “Like any special designs you want, that sort of thing. I’ve seen it all, man, nothing’s too weird for Manscaping. We just want to leave the customer satisfied, and we don’t stop until you are.”

Harry flushes at the other end of the phone, because it almost sounds like this guy is offering...but no, of course not. This is a legitimate business. Health care professional, Harry reminds himself.

“Um, what’s the cost?” He asks.

“That’s a bit hard to set over the phone,” the voice says apologetically. “It really depends, like I said, on what sort of landscape we’re talking about, the intricacy of the work being done, and all that. I will tell you that we’re very competitive in the field of mobile grooming, and you’re more than welcome to take our bid, and check in with our competitors, Bushwackers and A Cut Above. We’ve also got a 100% customer satisfaction on Yelp. In any case, the cost can run anywhere from $100 on up, but that’s our usual minimum, you know, unless there’s just a tiny bit of edging to do.”

Harry chokes silently and then says, “That sounds great, when can you come out?”

There’s a moment of silence as the man presumably checks his schedule and then says, “Oh, I have a cancellation for tomorrow evening, 7:00. I know it’s Friday night, last minute, so if you can’t do that,” and Harry hastily interrupts him.

“No, no, that’s fine. No plans, right?”

The voice laughs a bit awkwardly and says, “Okay, so I just need some information…”

When Harry hangs up the phone, he rubs his hands over his face and then looks up as Niall bursts into the office. Niall opens his mouth to speak and then frowns.

“You okay, man? You look a little flushed.”

“Oh, fine,” Harry laughs, wondering how to explain the appointment he’s just set up. “What have you got, Niall?” And he puts all thoughts of the groomer aside as he takes the x-rays that Niall hands him, and they begin talking over the case.

The following evening, Harry heads home early. He’s feeling keyed up and anxious, and wondering how this is going to go. It’s not that he’s never, you know, _groomed_ before, and it’s not even that he’s never had another man work on his...hedges, so to speak, but it’s always been part and parcel of sexytimes, and he’s suddenly terrified that he’s going to sport an inopportune boner. That can’t be all that uncommon, he reassure himself. It’s got to be normal that that sort of...you know, attention, might lead to things getting a bit harder than one might normally like. _Think of it like a prostate exam,_ he counsels himself. _Unsexy thoughts. This isn’t sexy at all._ His cock begs to differ, half-hard in his jeans as he tosses his keys into the bowl on the little stand in the front hall, and heads into the house. He glances around. Thankfully, the cleaner has just been, so the place looks neat and tidy. _Just like I’m going to look_ , he reassures himself. It’s all going to be fine.

He ponders a bit what to wear. It is a consultation, so clearly this guy is going to need access to the...area. Okay, first step, he thinks, probably it’s best to take a shower, wash the smell of surgery and puppy off of him, and at least get the site looking its best.  

After his shower, he ponders shaving and decides against it, though he does put on deodorant and a little cologne. He dries off and frowns down at his unruly garden. It really is time, he thinks, he should have done this weeks ago. He wanders back into the bedroom, and opens his wardrobe and finally pulls out his favorite robe, a red silk kimono-style robe, by Tom Ford for Gucci. He debates underpants and finally, in the interests of conventional social norms, pulls on his black silk, string bikini briefs — at least this will give the guy some idea of the parameters of the necessary landscaping, he thinks. He ties the robe loosely around himself, shoves his feet into his Gucci Kings Leather Horsebit slippers and heads downstairs.

He’s got about fifteen minutes before the groomer is set to arrive, so he pours himself a glass of wine, thinks longingly about ordering some dinner and sighs. He’ll have to wait. He has no idea how long this sort of thing takes. It’s never seemed like a particularly lengthy procedure to him, but then again, he’s no professional, just an amateur with a Remington and a #1 blade guard.

He’s almost done with the wine when the doorbell rings, and he gives a soft shriek of alarm, and then stands. Professional, he reminds himself. Like a doctor. But different. He takes a deep breath and opens the door, and knows immediately that he’s, well, fucked.

Because the guy standing there? Is gorgeous. He’s a bit smaller than Harry, with a bright smile, the bluest eyes Harry has ever seen, and a compact, curvy build that has Harry immediately interested. He’s casually dressed, wearing skinny jeans and a fitted black t-shirt that shows off the indentation of his waist and the curve of his bicep. He's also looking quite startled.

“Hey, Harry?”

Harry nods, dumbfounded, pretty sure that he looks like an idiot.

“I’m Louis, nice to meet you.” The man, _Louis,_ holds out his hand and Harry stares at it just long enough to make it awkward and then starts, and reaches out, shaking firmly.

“Hey, yes. I’m Harry. Come on in. I thought we could, I don’t know, sit in the living room?” Harry laughs self-consciously. “I don’t know how you usually do this?”

Louis frowns, looking confused. “Well, you know, wherever you’re comfortable to start. I mean, I’m going to need to see the area, but,” and here he chuckles, “We can work up to that, of course.”

“Would you like a glass of wine?” Harry offers.

Louis smiles, a bit regretfully, Harry thinks. “No, thanks. Can’t operate power tools under the influence, you know. Not safe.”

Harry feels a thrill run through him at how conscientious this man is. He’s worried about Harry’s safety. Of course, Harry’s going to pay him at least a hundred bucks to do so, but it’s worth every penny. He can’t help but feel a bit flushed at the idea that this man is going to...take care of him.

They head into the living room and Louis looks around appreciatively. “Nice place. I love these old Craftsman bungalows, they’re great.”

Harry smiles, feeling a bit more relaxed. “Yeah, I’ve been here about five years, I love it. It’s a great neighborhood. How about you, where do you live?”

“I actually live in the city,” Louis says casually, “But I love working out here, it’s an awesome reverse commute. I’ve got a place right in the Castro. So, anyway.” He quickly turns the meeting back to business and Harry can’t help the little pang he feels.

For a moment there, it had almost felt like...but no. _Professional,_ he reminds himself.

Louis continues, “So, I don’t see a whole lot out front that’s in need, but maybe you’ve got a few things hiding away?” He grins and Harry frowns a bit.

“No, it’s all pretty unruly,” he says, wondering how on earth he’s going to survive this man grooming him when he’s already hardening up in his lovely silk briefs, and the guy hasn’t even laid _eyes_ on him, let alone a trimmer.

“Yeah, around back?”

Harry stares at him, a little shocked. It’s never occurred to him to groom the, err, backyard, as it were. Though, now that he thinks of it, that’s probably not a bad idea — best to be prepared for all situations. “Yeah, we should probably do that,” he finally says.

“So,” Louis says, rubbing his hands together, “Let’s get to this, yeah?”

And then it happens. Harry pulls open his robe and says, “Well, here it is,” as Louis gets to his feet and says, “Why don’t you show me the yard?”

There’s a long, awful moment of a silence and then, Harry starts to realize. He’s made a mistake. He's made a terrible, _terrible_ mistake.

Louis is staring right at his package, out there on full display, overgrown pubes and all, and flushing bright red, says in a strangled voice, “Um, what?”

“Oh my god.” Harry whips the robe closed and can feel himself turning bright red. “Oh my god, you’re not a mobile groomer. You’re not a manscaper, are you?”

“Err,” Louis coughs and Harry can hear him swallow, “Err, not as such, no, I’m. Oh fuck. I’m a landscaper. You know, professionally. That's my business. Landscaping. Of bushes. Plants. Fuck.”

“I knew I should have fucking googled you,” Harry drops onto the couch and buries his face in his hands. This is quite possibly the most desperately embarrassing moment of his life, and he can’t quite believe how he’s misread things. “Oh my fucking god, I am so sorry. I can’t believe. I just. Your business name. And the jokes. I thought they were, you know,” he flushes harder, pulling the robe even more tightly around himself, damning the feeling of the silk on his scratchy groin, “I thought it was _innuendo,_ you know?”

“Well, it is,” Louis says carefully, “I mean, but yeah. I don’t think mobile pubic hair grooming is actually a thing, yet. I mean, is that even a professional activity?”

Harry rolls his eyes, “You fucking live in San Francisco, you’d know better than I would. I mean, Can’t you get everything groomed? And bleached? And whatever?”

Louis shrugs. “I wouldn’t know, I mean, I’m a more natural sort of guy myself.”

They stare at each other for another long moment, and when it becomes clear that San Francisco is not going to suffer a catastrophic earthquake and fall into the ocean when Harry really, really needs it to, he sighs and says, “Well, since you’re here, the backyard hedges are really a mess, and, oh god.” It hits him and he groans. “You trimmed Jack and Kevin’s hedges, didn’t you? You didn’t manscape them?”

Louis’ eyes widen and he says, “No, no. God. Not at all. I mean, they could use a trim, probably, if the beards are anything to go buy, but no, no. Just the hedges.”

“Nice work,” Harry says morosely, and pushes himself to standing. “Hang on, let me go throw on something more appropriate and I’ll show you the yard.”

“You don’t have to,” Louis blurts out, and then his eyes get round like he hadn’t really meant to say that aloud.

Harry stares at him. “What?”

“I mean,” Louis runs a hand through his messy hair and grins helplessly, “You actually look, err...really nice. That’s a gorgeous robe.”

Harry looks more closely at him and then smiles slowly. “So, after you...trim my hedges? Do you want to come back in for a glass of wine? Maybe some take out?”

Louis stares at Harry, who can’t help but let the robe fall open just a bit, and Louis inhales on a gasp and then says, “That sounds great. We can talk about...landscaping expectations.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come say hi on Tumblr! If you enjoyed this, the rest of my stuff can be found here!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I would love it if you left a kudos or a comment, they all make my day brighter and inspire me to write more!
> 
> Even better, if you feel moved to do so, [here's the rebloggable post](https://phd-mama.tumblr.com/post/163548617088/on-the-go) on Tumblr!


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